


Like It All On The Edge Just Like You

by cloudings



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Alcohol, Grinding, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Party Games, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Spin the Bottle, also features m/f and f/f kissing bcos heyyy spin the bottle, help this man and his asthma, steve is like broken, steve is v gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudings/pseuds/cloudings
Summary: Steve's used to Bucky going out partying on his own most weekends, but now Bucky is determined to get the guy to have some damn fun for justoncein his life. Steve's disinclined, until Bucky says something about a game that gets Steve's mind whirring and surely,surely,that isn't legal?RE-UPLOAD!!!!





	Like It All On The Edge Just Like You

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank you for reading. this may seem familiar to some of you. unfortunately, this fic got deleted, so this is the re-upload!

Steve’s used to Bucky going out without him, especially when it comes to parties. He understands it, really, why people wouldn’t want him to go and act like a giant wallflower whilst everyone has fun. 

Steve’s used to Bucky coming home drunk after one of these parties, too. These times, Steve can stand. Bucky’s a funny type of drunk; the type who giggles at everything and gets overly curious about silly stuff, like who the hell got them that stupid-ass clock, anyway? 

“Met a girl, Stevie,” Bucky slurs to him as Steve helps him to the couch. “She was real pretty. Eyes like the damn stars.” 

“That’s great, Buck,” he tells him, allowing himself a small chuckle as he tries to separate himself from his friend’s grasp. “You give her a kiss?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the  _ p!  _ on the end. His lips stretch into a pretty pink grin, his eyes half-lidded. “Hair was nice ‘n blonde. ‘S like yours.”

“I ask you if you kissed a pretty dame and you tell me ‘bout her hair?” Steve laughs, and he pats his friend’s arm, thick and full of muscle. “Let me out.”

“No, I missed you, Stevie. Want you to come with me, next time… Bet you’d have a blast with me, at a dame’s party.”

“I’d be sat in the corner the whole time, Bucky. Nobody would wanna talk with me, let alone  _ dance. _ ”

“Aw, no, don’t be silly. I’d dance with you,” Bucky reassures. “And besides, we do more than dance, y’know?”

“Yeah, I'm sure that you do.”

“I  _ mean _ , we play games, ‘n stuff.” He shrugs, still hooking his arms around Steve’s neck, lying down the on the couch as if he’d forgotten that Steve was even there. “Y’know, truth or dare, spin the bottle. All very fun. The ladies love it.” He snorted. “So do I.”

“With all due respect, Buck, nobody would wanna play spin the bottle if they knew they might have a chance of meeting my lips.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bucky groans. “Any girl would kill for a chance to kiss you. And if they wouldn’t, they’re even more dumb than I would’a thought.”

“Don’t be mean about the girls, Buck,” he says in return, though his smile had shifted into something more sincere. “Not their fault they got standards.”

“ _ Standards, _ ” he replies, and his hands shift to Steve’s hair. He ruffles it, his eyes resting on the sweep over his forehead. “Y’know, it’s not only broads that y’ kiss.”

Steve frowns for a second, his heart giving an involuntary leap in his chest. “What’re you talking about?”

“Well, if you’re a guy, and the bottle lands on a guy…” He trails off, but after a moment of consideration, allows a breath of air escape his nose. “Used to just spin again, but the girls wanted to see some of us do it. Just have to keep it on the down-low.”

“Oh,” Steve mutters.

“And, well, it’s kinda hot when the girls kiss each other, too.”

He shifts, then, and Steve has to bite his lip to stop him from asking another question, and another, and as he places the raggedy blanket over Bucky’s body, and the torn, dirty pillow under his head, he can’t help but allow himself to wonder  _ just what’s the worst that could happen if I did go? _

*

Bucky’s not there when Steve stumbles out of the bedroom the next morning. Understandable, really, since he had work first thing, but Steve can never understand just how he manages to wake up early after a long night of boozing. The blanket is draped over the back of the couch and there’s a glass of water on the table next to some of Steve’s medication and yesterday’s newspaper, stolen from their next door neighbour’s house, like always. He smiles, gulping down the tablets and flopping himself down, grabbing the paper. 

Great Depression, Roosevelt’s different efforts, what was going on overseas… Steve didn’t care. It was just more entertaining than sitting around all day.

But soon the paper was discarded once more, and Steve ends up peering out of the window, to the trickling rain that pit-patters against the glass. Steve always envied people like Bucky; who could go out in the rain whenever they wanted without the achingly high risk of contracting pneumonia. He’d always wanted to dance in the rain, allow the wetness to splash over his face and drench his hair, lay there until his body was flooded. 

Instead, he watches the window closely, drearily noting each umbrella that bobs on by. Black. Black. Black. Black. Blue. Black. They’re all in a hurry — running on by, genderless, ageless, rain-repellent curves. 

He ends up taking out some spare parchment and scribbling the wet outside onto it in his pencil. And another. And another. He must go through ten sheets of paper in just one sitting almost every time he does this. He knows he shouldn’t; they can barely afford to get enough as it is.

But his mind wanders. It always does so. 

As he watches the people wander by on the street he can’t help but remember the words that his best friend had spoken to him the night previously. The thought makes his skin itch; the very reminder causing his flesh to heat up and an all too familiar heat to flare up in his groin. 

_ Y’know, it’s not only broads that y’ kiss. _ Why would he have said that, Steve wonders, if not for knowing about his private inclinations? 

And yet still the very idea of plastering his lips upon another man’s makes him hot under the collar. If Bucky manages to convince Steve to go to one of these parties, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to handle even the sight. For years, he’s thrived off of only his vivid imagination and his drawings that then get burnt out of fear, and seeing two men together in real life may get Steve into some serious trouble. He knows his body would betray him, it always had done; from asthma, to colorblindedness, to vicarious, impromptu erections every other two hours of the day. 

Seeing two men kiss one another would be enough to make him ache; he’s sure he’d burst if he actually felt another man’s lips upon him. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Steve shuts his eyes and sits back in his chair, allowing his hand to trail down his front, letting himself feel every brush of his fingertips over his sensitive skin. He’s aware of the guilt he’s going to feel after he finishes; the guilt he always feels when he’s done. He doesn’t care. Right now, all he cares about is the image of two nameless, faceless men, upon each other, preening on one another and licking into each other’s mouths. Dirty. Wet. Hot. 

His hand around his cock and the thought of just kissing is almost enough to have him spilling out over his small fist. He likes the way it looks, he thinks, so big in his hand that it complements it, and he wonders how it would look in the hand of another. How his hands would look around another. 

He fantasises of cocks as he holds himself in one palm, spitting into the other to help him create some comfortable friction. It was as unlikely as the sun crashing into earth; and the unlikely makes Steve hot under the collar. He allows his head to drop backwards over the chair, his mouth and eyes only slightly apart, like cracks in the street below which hold such mystery and worry. He touches himself as he thinks about raw skin on skin and the tumble of muscles which could never be him, and it’s too short of an amount of time before his blasted imagination wanders and wanders and he’s thinking of  _ him _ again; of Bucky; of his pretty lips parting as he whispers the sweet words that got Steve into this mess in the first place:  _ it’s not only broads that y’ kiss.  _

_ What’s the worst that could happen if he went? What’s the worst that could happen? What’s the  _ — Steve’s mind rumbles and aches for the answer, coming up only with one conclusive result; embarrassment, humiliation, perhaps the end of a friendship? And if he was more than eager about the situation by accident, what then? The cops? 

Anxiety and arousal manifests inside him like yin and yang and he bites his lip and squeezes his cock harder anyway. He can feel his breathing getting sharper as he tries to picture only what would lead to his doom; not of it; and climaxes over his hand and his trousers when his mind provides him with the image of Bucky. Pinning him down. Licking into his mouth. Grinding against his hips. Hands on — hair. Waist. Lips. Cheeks. Cock. 

His toes curl and he plasters his free hand over his mouth to stop himself from shouting out loud, knowing his window was open and that the walls were thinner than sin. His breath shudders when it finishes, and he almost falls over his trousers when he rushes to take them off and shove them in the sink. He washes his hands off as the does so, and leaves the garments to soak away the remnants of his shame. Steve walks red-faced to the bedroom to find himself another pair.

*

“I ain’t got work tomorrow,” Bucky says one evening, perhaps three or four weeks after Steve’s shameful activities and Bucky’s proposition. 

“Oh? How come?” Steve frowns, deeper still when Bucky only shrugs.

“‘S your birthday.”

“Buck — we can’t afford that!” he stresses, turning his entire body towards his friend’s on the couch. “You know my drawings aren’t earning nearly as much as —”

“Fourth of July.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “National holiday. Dumbass. Not paid, yeah, but my boss is real patriotic. Wants all of us out celebrating. So… We’re gonna go celebrate!”

Steve huffs, “What?” and shakes his head dutifully. “Buck, I don’t wanna.”

“Yep, you do,” he tells him, slapping his hands on his thighs and pushing himself up from the couch. He stares down at Steve, and Steve has to pinch himself to not gaze back. “C’mon. It’s your birthday, for crying out loud. Just tonight. Please?” he asks, and he’s doing that stupid pouty thing with his lips that he  _ knows  _ Steve can never resist laughing at. After a couple of stubborn moments, he sighs, rolling his eyes and nodding.

“Fine.”

“That’s my Stevie!” he says, grinning. “Get dressed. We’re headin’ over to Evie’s place at seven. That alright?”

Steve pushes himself up from the couch, knowing that he doesn’t really have a choice now, anyway, and says, “That’s fine. I don’t have any clue what to wear, though.”

“I’ll help ya,” Bucky says, his smile wide and almost taking the breath out of Steve’s chest. “Gonna make y’ look  _ dashing! _ The dames won’t be able to keep their hands off of ya.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, as Bucky starts to direct him towards the bedroom. “Perfect.”

He ends up wearing his regular button-up shirt with a sturdy, dark blue corduroy set of trousers. Bucky had tried to convince him to leave off the suspenders, but, as Steve had tried to tell him, the trousers would just fall right down without any of their support. Not even belts would assist his clothes in staying up around his skinny frame. He did, however, succumb to his best friend’s suggestion of not wearing a jacket with the combination when they finally got to the party. Steve had to admit that it looked better, and felt ever so slightly self conscious now, as they walked down the street together, the jacket too broad and too long and all wrong. He figures, as they take each step side by side, that he looks more like Bucky’s kid brother than his lifelong friend. The thought makes him grind his teeth. 

The evening air is clean and it seems like they aren’t the only ones to go out celebrating the night before the fourth. Dozens of giggling girls scurry by, whispering behind their hands to each other as they eye Bucky up and down. Steve can’t really blame them. He did look impressive tonight. His shirt was a button-up, like Steve’s, only a dark blue instead of bright white. His trousers were a deep black, fitting him impeccably, and truth be told that  _ he  _ didn’t need  _ any  _ help in getting trousers to stay up around his hips. Steve licks his lips, electing to turn his head away from his friend completely instead of running the risk of staring by mistake. 

When they reach the street of the destination, they hear Evelyn’s house before they see it. The windows are all wide open, the door as well, and people are laughing in the front garden. They’re all drinking. Steve hopes they’re offering plain old water, as well. 

Bucky grins and runs up to a woman with dirty-blonde curls and a figure that would make Jean Harlow jealous. He puts his hands on her hips and she startles at the contact, only to tumble into giggles when she sees his face. She hits him playfully on the arm, and he says something to her, and she turns brightly to Steve, a couple of feet back. Her expression, inexplicably, doesn’t falter. Instead, she bounds towards him, her arms stretched out in front of her in greeting. 

“Evenin’!” she says, taking hold of both of Steve’s hands. He can tell that his hands are sweating, and it’s embarrassing to high heaven, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “My name’s Evelyn. You can call me Evie, if you wanna, ‘cause it seems to be easier for the likes of some blokes!” 

She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips as she turns back to Bucky. He’s beaming, and somehow already has a beer in his hand. 

“Nice t’ meet you,” Steve mumbles, nodding politely. “I’m Steve Rogers.” 

“I know! Bucky near couldn’t shut up about ya last time we met up! It could almost make a girl jealous, you know. You’re lucky that I’m lenient,” she teases. “Now, I know that you’re new to the party scene, and don’t y’ worry a bit about that. You wanna drink, Steve?”

His throat is dry as he blinks and says, after hesitating, “Sure.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Good man. You ever tasted beer before?” 

He tries to hide his offence. Yes, of  _ course  _ he’s tasted a beer before. He may not be of legal drinking age, but he was eighteen, and he had  _ Bucky  _ for a best friend, for crying out loud. “Yeah,” he says, “I’ve tasted beer.”

“Great, you won't be spittin’ it out when ya taste it, then!” she jokes, and passes him a bottle of  _ Pabst.  _ She puts an arm around his shoulders and her bosom is right next to Steve’s face, thanks to those high-heels all the girls were wearing. He tries not to blush, presses the tip of the bottle to his lips, and takes a swig of the alcohol. He’s never liked the taste. He drinks it anyway.

“Stevie!” he hears a familiar voice call. He turns his head quickly, and tries not to smile with relief when he sees Bucky returning to them. “Ah,” he says, eyeing Steve’s bottle, “You drinkin’ tonight, Stevie?”

Something about how he says it makes Steve’s chest warm. He stares down at the bottle, and then back up at his friend’s face. “Apparently I am. It’s not so bad.”

“Huh. Well, you be careful, huh? Why don’t we get inside. It’s getting chilly.”

Steve nods. He knows it’s not getting that cold, but it’s getting progressively darker, and Bucky has never liked Steve being outside in the night. Too risky. Steve could probably contract pneumonia from opening a refrigerator. So, he smiles back at Evelyn and makes his way inside with Bucky right at his side. He puts an arm around Steve’s shoulders lazily, and takes a drink of his own. 

“So,” he says mischievously. Steve narrows his eyes at him, and he says, “You like Evie?”

“She’s nice,” Steve tells him. “Pretty, too.”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Nice hair, huh?”

“Nice — what? Her – Oh! Shoot, she was the same you got lucky with the other week, wasn’t she?” 

Bucky shrugs. He looks smug. “Maybe.”

“Well, you sure left an impression. She said you wouldn’t stop talkin’ about  _ me. _ ” 

Bucky startles so bad that he actually spits out a little bit of his beer. He coughs awkwardly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and – it almost looks like he’s purposely avoiding Steve’s gaze. “She said that, huh?” he asks sheepishly. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, really, I’m flattered,” Steve says, smirking, and he nudges Bucky in the side. “I took your mind off of a dame, really? One that you even got to kiss you? Why, Buck, honestly. I may blush.” 

“Alright, alright, stop teasin’ me, you punk.” Bucky nudges him right back. He almost falls, if it weren’t for Bucky’s hand quickly pulling him back then he would have done so. His body presses against his friend’s side and it distracts him for a moment – too long. 

The music is upbeat. He doesn’t know much about the music that was playing other than the fact that it’s jazz. He’s not that interested in music, to be truthful, and the names of artists often skip his mind if they don’t leave a lasting impression on him. He didn’t really have a favourite. 

People were dancing with one another in the sitting room. The house is truly big; probably one of the biggest that Steve has ever set foot in. She would be a good person to marry, he thinks to himself. Bucky would do good to get into her family. 

“Nice place, huh?” Bucky asks him over the music. Steve blindly nods. He stares up at the mirror over the fireplace and towards the radio, and people begin to take a short break from dancing when an advertisement for cigarettes came on. The words caused a couple of people to pull out their own. The mere sight made Steve start to cough. 

“Ah, for cryin’ out loud!” Bucky huffs, directing him into the kitchen for some clean air. “Death sticks. Nasty.”

“Y’know, you don’t have to run away from the fun just for me,” Steve tells him. “You can go back, if you want.”

“Nah. Hate it in there. Can’t breathe, myself.” He raises the bottle back to his lips and takes one long gulp. 

“So you still woulda left that room if I wasn’t here, huh?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. He looks down at his own bottle, and then takes another sip. It still tastes awful. He drinks some more. 

“Doesn’t matter. ‘Cause you’re here.”

“Mm,” Steve hums. “I am.” 

“I wonder when the games will start tonight,” he comments, fiddling with some of the knobs on the stove. He stops when Steve kicks his hand away, giving him a look to say,  _ do you even know what those do?  _

“Right. The games.” Steve shakes his head. “That’s gonna be… fun.”

“Hey, it  _ will  _ be fun. What’s not fun about gettin’ to smooch a few broads, huh?” He grins at him. 

“The fact that they won’t wanna  _ smooch  _ back.”

“You’re too damn hard on yourself. Evie liked you, didn’t she?” 

“Only because you told her about me. Nobody here knows who I am, Buck. I’m telling you, they’re all gonna be cringing away from the idea of me playing.”

“Now, shut up. Any damn gal who cringes will have me to answer to, okay? It’s stupid. You’re a perfectly eligible bachelor who the girls should all be swoonin’ over. Trust me.” 

There was that warm feeling in Steve’s chest again. He gulps down some more of his drink and pretends that it’s the beer. 

*

After about three hours, Steve has probably had far too much to drink. He’s on his eighth or ninth beer now, and with his body mass? That’s enough to make him more than dizzy. He downs some of the water that Bucky had gotten for him and shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind. Things looked like they were going in slow motion. 

He leans backwards against the living room couch, watching his company laugh and talk and dance. They sure had been there a while, he thinks, and wonders when it may be time to turn in. Steve knows that Bucky doesn’t have work tomorrow, but it’s never good to sleep in too late. A good chunk of the party goers seemed to have gone home by now, leaving maybe only fifteen. 

“Buck?” he says, holding out one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. He feels something hit it; a gasp and a sudden bloom of pain. Someone had stepped on his foot. 

“Oh! Shit, little fella, didn’t mean t’ hurt ya,” a man says, and places his hand onto Steve’s foot softly. He doesn’t get angry when Steve winces and pulls his foot away. “You all good?” 

Steve nods, lets out a quiet, “Sure,” and tries not to think about how beautiful the man who spoke to him was. On a second look, he notices that a lot of the men in the room weren’t unattractive… All muscles, clearly burly and manly and right,  _ shut the fuck up, mind, shut up! _

“Now, who in this room is up for some fun?” Evie announces, and a few of the boys wolf whistle at her. In response, she flushes, and she rolls her eyes underneath her heavy mascara. Hands on her hips, she speaks to the room as a whole, and bounces a little on the balls of her feet. Steve doesn’t miss the way her breasts jiggle at the movement and he’s sure that the other men in room don’t either, but it doesn’t really do anything for him. 

“We talkin’ a game?” Bucky says, and Steve realises that he’s been sitting on the couch above him the whole time. “I think we’re up for a game. Huh, Stevie?” There’s a hand ruffling his hair. “You up for a game?”

“Sure,” Steve says, and he takes the glass of water that comes from Bucky’s other hand. He sips it down, now almost desperate for a clutch that would nail his head down. 

“Anybody got an empty bottle?” Evie asks, settling herself on the floor next to Steve. He feels Bucky slide down to the floor on his other side, and even though the water is icy cold, he feels the warmth again. 

A group of them settle into a large circle in the middle of the floor, with one bottle settled in the centre. Steve’s heart was almost in his throat. The ratio of men to women was fairly equal; perhaps a few more gals than guys. 

There was a unanimous decision that Evie should start the game with the very first spin, considering that it was her house and all, and she happily carried it out. When it stops, and lands on the man that has stepped on Steve’s foot, she giggles before threading her fingers through his curly hair and pressing their lips together. 

He almost gets dizzy at the sight. He’s always been incredibly uncomfortable when it comes to public displays of affection and this was no exception. He watches, still, and pulls his legs up to his chest, and almost misses the smirk that Bucky sends him. He knows that he turns pink, and he gently nudges his friend in the side. The girl next to Evie spins next, whose name turns out to be Eileen, and she kisses a blond man with slight stubble, that Steve can see grazes her smooth jaw. 

He sucks in his breath as the circle progresses, and realises quickly that he’ll be the very last one to spin out of all of them. The bottle hasn’t landed on him yet and he’s anxious for when it does; if it does at all. But he knows that he’s going to have to kiss  _ somebody  _ in the game, when it comes around to his turn. Thankfully, the stress that has built up in his chest had sobered him up ever so slightly, so he was no longer seeing double and was no longer feeling like his head was going to topple off of his neck. 

It was Bucky’s turn before they know it. He leans forward with the familiar smirk on his face and it makes something in Steve’s chest go crazy. His fingers place themselves on the body of the bottle and he spins it gracefully, balancing himself on both knees and one hand. From here, Steve can see his biceps bulging through the sheer sleeves of his smart shirt. He can see the small gathering of sweat on the back of his neck and the gorgeous way it glimmers in the warm light. He can see the tightness of his trousers and the way they so generously present his legs and his hips and his — and — 

_ Breathe. Breathe. Breathe _ , he tells himself. 

But Bucky spins the bottle, and he’s the first one to land on somebody of the same gender. Of course he is, Steve thinks, because though he’s a God fearing man, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Lord was doing this to punish him. He feels like he’s going to burst as the circle watches the bottle settle on a young man named Charles (though his friends call him Charlie, apparently). He has thick, wavy hair and eyes that come across as innocent. His lips part ever so slightly when the bottle stops moving, and suddenly everybody is looking at each other. 

Evie is the first to speak up, a fact which doesn’t surprise Steve in the slightest. She climbs up onto the couch and pulls down the blinds, even though it’s now dark outside, and says, “It’s a game, fellas.”

Bucky turns his head back to look at Steve, and he can’t decipher the expression on his face but figures it to be a sort of  _ didn't I tell ya?  _ look. Steve hadn’t really needed proof. When Evie sits herself back down, Steve can see a distinct colouring to her cheeks and a dilation in her pupils, and wonders if he looks similar. A lot of the girls share the same attributes as her, their eyes focused on the pairing who are now meeting in the middle. 

He wonders about the rules of this aspect. So far, all of the couples who had been brought together over the bottle had ended up joining together in more than just a peck of the lips. Steve knows that the people at his church would have called the lip-locks obscene and distasteful, and they made his mouth water anyway. To think that he would have the chance – the smallest possibility, even – of seeing that occur between two men? 

“Well, stop starin’ at me and get on with it,” Bucky jokes to the man he’s nose-to-nose with, “You’re gonna make me blush.”

The circle laughs but it feels like there’s an entire rock lodged inside of Steve’s throat. He’s staring so intently that he’s glad for once that he’s so often overlooked and invisible to people, because he’s sure that there’s absolutely no way that he could pass it off as anything other than what it is. He shifts his position on the ground and clings desperately to the ice cold glass in his hands. And then Charles leans in. 

Steve can feel his eyes bulging out of his head. It’s not a kiss like the others that have been shared tonight at all, not in the slightest, but it’s more than a peck and that’s  _ enough.  _ It’s enough to make him audibly gasp and he can feel his arousal against his thigh, and his breathing has gotten slower and heavier and — did Bucky’s mouth just move against the other man’s? Were Charles’ fingers really twitching to thread themselves through Bucky’s hair like Steve has always dreamt of doing? Was he imagining things to keep his erection steady or were the two of them milking this moment? Of course, Steve couldn’t know. Perhaps that was how all of the same-sex kisses went on in these games. Perhaps Steve should stop thinking for two damn seconds. 

One of the men around the circle cough uncomfortably and one of the girls whistle her appreciation of the sight. Bucky pulls away from the other man’s lips to laugh, and settles himself back down in his seat next to Steve, Charles left blushing and rolling his eyes at the pinches and mocks his peers give him. Steve presses his forearm against his crotch and doesn’t meet Bucky’s eye when he nudges him softly. It was his turn to spin the bottle. 

“Steve,” his friend whispers, “It’s your turn, bud.”

“Right,” he says, and nods, and fears that if he moves forward to the centre of the circle to spin it, he would expose his unfortunate predicament down below. His toes curl in on themselves and he takes a deep breath, giving one sweeping glance at the faces around the circle. His fingers grip the carpet.

“Steve?” Evie says softly. “You know, you don’t have to play if you don’t wanna.”

“I do,” Steve tells her defiantly. He pulls his shirt down over his crotch subtly and rises to his knees, leaning forwards to the centre. He steadies himself on one hand and his fingertips pinch the cold glass of the bottle. He takes a deep breath, and spins. It whirls around, and around, and around the circle, making him dizzy as he watches, scared to see where it will end up. 

He doesn’t even realise that he’s holding in that breath until he releases it when the bottle ceases movement. His hands are shaking and sweaty as he leans back and sits on his feet, and he turns with a nervous glance to Evie. She’s smiling. 

“Well, come on, sugar,” she says to him sweetly, gazing up at him from her slumped position. She uses her fingers to act as legs, stepping up Steve’s thumping chest, dainty to his throat until her soft palm cups his neck. She can probably feel how fast his pulse is pumping. His gaze flicks between her eyes. 

He leans towards her and kisses her, his eyes closing on basic instinct. She smells like an odd mixture of wine and sweet perfume, and Steve knows that he’s bad at kissing but he does what he assumes is the basics, and, well, she’s not complaining. His hand slithers to her hair and he softly strokes her head with his thumb. She’s poking her tongue against his lips. He does what he assumes is right and opens his mouth ever so slightly, taking in a breath as he does so. 

Their tongues meet and it’s nothing less than a foreign feeling to him. It doesn’t seem quite right, but he goes along with it, because that’s the game, isn’t it? He opens his mouth a little wider, gently sucks in her bottom lip, before releasing it and pressing his tongue against hers once more. 

She makes a noise against his mouth that seems to be so quiet that he could have missed it if not for being hyper aware of everything going on. The sound makes him furrow his brows, because he can’t say that he’s ever even heard a girl make a whimper like that before, let alone been the cause of the noise. It was, in a way, exhilarating; entertaining the idea that he might be good at this kissing thing. He never would have been able to guess. 

She tilts her head to dive into an even deeper kiss that startles him slightly, but he accepts it nonetheless, and he strokes her jaw with his thumb once again. She places her spare palm onto his chest again and this time slid it downwards, over his nipple, and his ribs, down to his stomach, and then his thigh. 

“Alright, alright, lovebirds,” Steve hears a hoarse voice interrupt. “That’s enough of that, huh? Before you two get too frisky.”

Steve pulls away from Evie without a second thought, leaving him looking at the woman, who has dazed, lidded eyes and is biting her smile. Her eyes roam his face, and then down to her hand on his leg, and she sits back with a smug grin on her face. He studies her for a moment longer before turning back to face forwards, relaxing again. He didn’t realise why he felt more comfortable until he looked down and saw his crotch appearing considerably more loose. He was no longer hard. 

Evie spins the bottle eagerly, now starting the second round of the game, and it lands on Charles. The two meet, and Steve catches Bucky’s eye. He’s staring at him, with a hint of something deeper, and Steve immediately sits up. 

“What?” he whispers, whilst the group was focused on the lip-lock of the other two. 

Bucky shrugs, “Nothin’,” and rubs the spot above his eyebrow. Steve knows that look. His lips part.  _ Of course.  _ The man was upset. He was obviously upset. How didn’t he realise that before? Steve had kissed Evie. Steve had kissed the woman that Bucky had had his eyes on. 

“Buck,” he says softly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t — think.” 

“What?” He frowns. “What’re you sorry for?”

“Kissin’ Evie,” he answers, confused. “I know you like her.” 

There’s a split second before Bucky’s mouth opens in realisation and a grin splits over his face. He lightly punches Steve’s shoulder and shakes his head, then says to him, “You’re stupid.” 

Steve’s too preoccupied with his confusion to initially notice the sudden hush over the room until he noticed the girl next to Bucky get up on her knees and crawl to the centre of the floor to meet… Eileen.  _ Oh.  _ Bucky’s suddenly sitting up a lot more straight and the man on the nameless woman’s other side pats her encouragingly on the behind. She doesn’t seem to mind, but Steve is hoping that it’s her boyfriend. 

Their lips meet and even Steve can admit that the sight is aesthetically appealing. The two girls, one blonde and one brunette, red lips locked together and tongues tumbling. Manicured hands explored each other’s heads and it becomes clear to Steve in that moment, with the other men collectively drooling over the sight in front of them, that it doesn’t matter if things go too far with the girls. That’s not an issue. If two of the guys were to do — this, he thinks, and he gulps at even the prospect, they’d be thrown out. Humiliated. Worse.

They’ve smudged their lipstick. They’re still kissing. Steve can’t resist it, and he redirects his gaze as subtly as he can. Bucky’s pupils are dilated and his lips parted, and his arm is planted in the all too familiar position over his groin. His mouth runs dry at the realisation that he’s sitting next to Bucky whilst the man is  _ hard _ . And he knows, realistically, that it’s probably happened before in all of their years of being friends and even living together, but just knowing that it’s actually occurring as he sits… 

Steve doesn’t know when they stop kissing exactly because he wasn’t looking at them. He sees the other girl sit down in his peripheral as he continues to stare at his friend, and only realises really what he’s doing when Bucky meets his gaze. But he doesn’t say anything; only raises his eyebrows once and then continues to look around the circle. Fuck.

Steve blocks out everything and continues to drink his glass of water. Call him a freak, but the times that a man landed on a woman or vice versa we’re almost… boring, in a way. He liked watching the way that the men’s jaws and lips and hands and  _ everything _ moved, but now that he knew what he  _ could  _ be seeing? Double the man? He couldn’t even compare it. He didn’t even mind when one of the other girls he wasn’t sure the name of spun and let the bottle land on him. He gulps, and leans forwards, knowing that she won’t be as forgiving as Evie, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She whimpers, like Evie did, and Steve takes that to be a good thing. 

And then it’s Bucky’s turn again. Steve holds his breath as he watches the bottle skim over every person in the room, fast, fast, slower, stop. He lands on Helen (whose name Steve only knows because she used to go to his church. He doubts she remembers him) and the two of them go at it and Steve can’t help himself but be interested by this one. He can never help himself when it comes to Bucky. 

His fingers look light against her dark hair, gently tugging on the curls to encourage her further. Steve sees her smile against Bucky’s lips, opening her mouth to accept his tongue. The hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand up straight and he shifts his position, unable to keep still. It’s no comparison to seeing Bucky kiss another man but it’s still an incredible sight that makes his skin itch and his breathing heavy. He shouldn’t have come tonight. He could be home, now, waiting for his friend to arrive back, drunk, and still be ignorant of the possibilities. He wishes he was still ignorant of the possibilities.

“Ahem,” Evie faux-coughs into her fist, and Bucky pulls away from Helen with one last peck to her pursed lips. She’s blushing to the very top of her head, even her ears and neck are flushed dark pink. Steve understands. 

He leans forwards when Bucky leans back to sit, spinning the bottle immediately instead of stalling this time. There’s no point. He watches the glass spin and tries not to worry this time about the end result. There’s a pang in his chest about the possibility of it ending up on a man but he’s trying to put that right out of his brain, at the moment. He’ll deal with having to kiss a man when the time comes, but until then, it seemed pointless to him to fret. 

It lands on a pretty woman with thick lips, who looks up at Steve seductively through her dark lashes and crawls towards him. He doesn’t even have to meet her halfway — she’s leaning over him, tilting his chin up with two fingers, nails digging into his skin. He tries to keep his ground, meeting her for the kiss, cupping her cheek, but she’s kind of vicious about it. He struggles to keep up with her, but when she opens her mouth he finally gets one up on her, sliding in his tongue when she wasn’t expecting it. Sitting up a little, he vaguely notices that his head is tilting downwards now, and she’s having to lean upwards to kiss him. When had he gotten to his knees? 

Her hands are on Steve’s chest, sliding up and down and around to the back of his neck, and then his hair, and one on his thigh, and was that a favourite place for women to touch, he wonders? She’s certainly a very experienced kisser, and Steve’s surprised that she hasn’t pulled away already. 

So he does. He’s not sure how long they were kissing, but it felt like the average amount of time for the others, so he pulls himself out of the kiss and gives her a smile, smoothing the soft skin of her cheek as she gives him a wide-eyed stare. After a second or two, she smiles back, and steps back over to her original place of seating. People are looking at him. 

He sinks back to sit on his butt again and the game continues without a word. He nudges Bucky with his elbow and frowns at him. “What?” he whispers. “What happened?”

Bucky’s eyes roam the circle before he leans closer. He clears his throat, and answers, “I just don’t think anyone was expectin’ ya to get Faith into that state. She normally, ya know, stays in control.” 

“Oh,” Steve breathes, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t really – think.”

Bucky huffs a laugh. “Trust me, nobody’s judging you. ‘S rather impressive, actually.” 

“Joshua, don’t be so sensitive!” Evie was stressing. “Come on, jus’ one little kiss. Ain’t nobody gonna tell!”

The man at whom everyone was staring — Joshua — was shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck. His leg was shaking. “I don’t wanna kiss no man.”

“Then why’d you agree to play, huh? Don’t be so dingy. Robert, go over there and plant one on him already, won’t you?” 

Robert shrugged and began to crawl forwards in the circle, but Joshua still seemed apprehensive. The girls were rolling their eyes, and he heard Bucky mutter, “Hurry up, for cryin’ out loud,” under his breath. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Evie says, “You give a kiss to anyone it lands on when you spin it, and at the end of the game, I’ll show you a little somethin’.”

Joshua blinked at her, and his eyes skidded downwards to her breasts. She winked over at him, and he quickly got to his knees, shuffling forwards and giving Robert a quick peck on the mouth. Robert was frowning. 

“Now, come on,” he complains, “Surely every man who has to kiss another man gets to see somethin’ nice afterwards. You know, like, ah, compen— comp—”

“Compensation,” Bucky says, and smirks over towards Evie. “I agree with the fellas.”

“Well, we’ll see,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Maybe if you all put up a better performance!”

“Whaddya mean!” he asks, folding his arms to mock her. “I think Charles and I put up a brilliant performance. Right, Charles?” 

Charles licks his lips, his eyes only on Evie, and nods. “I think it’s only fair.”

“You two didn’t even move your lips. You two—” She gestured towards Joshua and Robert — “That was hardly a kiss!”

“What do you want us to do, lady, make out?” Joshua scoffs.

“You’ll not call me  _ lady  _ if you wanna stay in my damn house, thank you! Yes! Make out, cowards. You’re perfectly happy to watch two gals do it!”

Joshua seemed to shrink back a little bit, and said sheepishly, “Sorry…”

“So if we smooch on a guy, we get to see your baps?” a man asks, and Steve thinks his name is Carl. 

She shrugs, a playful smirk on her face. “Maybe,” she teases. “Maybe more.”

“I’ll volunteer,” Faith speaks up. “If y’all wanna have more reason.”

“And I will,” another girl says, raising her hand slightly. “ _ If  _ you all earn it.”

“Annie!” the man next to her frowns. 

“Shut up, Stanley.”

Steve listens to the conversation around him and supposes that he’s going to die if this becomes a deal. His blood is pumping in his his ears and he knows, he  _ knows  _ that if he sees two of them start to neck each other then his life really will be over. He really didn’t think that any of the men would even be  _ tempted  _ – it didn’t seem like a fair deal, to him, but what did he know?

“I’ll do it,” Bucky says. Steve’s head whips around to look at him.

Steve croaks, “What?” and hopes it’s not too obvious how his heart is in his throat. 

“Yeah.” He nods, smirking with his tongue in his cheek. “‘S been a while since I’ve had an eyeful.”

He feels lightheaded and like he might topple over onto the ground and pass out right there and then, but there are three more girls before another man and that hopefully means that he’s safe. For now. 

Sat next to Robert, it’s Helen’s turn again, and the bottle spins around until it lands on the man who had stepped on Steve’s foot. He really needed to learn his name, he thought, and leans over to Bucky. 

“Who is he?” he asks.

“The guy? That’s PJ. Real nice guy, PJ. I’ve seen him punch a guy who couldn’t take no as an answer from a gal.” 

Steve hums in appreciation and sits back against the couch as PJ and Helen connect their lips and open their mouths to each other’s tongues. It’s an odd sight, really; Steve doesn’t find Helen much attractive at all, but PJ has a kind of aura that lets the room know that he’s there. Kind of like Bucky, he thinks, and hates that he finds it so alluring. 

There are two more women after Helen, who Steve finds out by whoops and calls are called Joyce and Betty. The two end up, against all odds, landing on each other, resulting in an extra long moment portion of kissing between the two of them. Betty’s knees are locked and Steve can see Joyce’s hips subtly rolling against the floor. They’re both enjoying it. 

He tries not to watch, because it feels too intimate and far too close to home for him. Apparently the two of them are best friends. He doesn’t think that anybody else can see the connection between them, though; the unspoken one. Nobody but him, and it hurts to know why. The men around the group are all drooling like animals and some of the girls are all flustered too, but Bucky… Bucky’s just watching. There’s something in his gaze that Steve can’t pin from just seeing, but he wonders if he maybe has history with one of them. It almost seems like… yearning?

Charles’ turn again. He’d already kissed Bucky this evening, stiff and tight-lipped, but he hadn’t opposed openly to Evie and the other girls’ proposal. If he landed on a man when spinning the bottle, would he go all of the way when kissing him? Steve can feel his dick twitch with interest at the image in his head, unwillingly there by no fault of his own, and wills it away. His mind doesn’t seem to be cooperating with him this evening, and he blames it mostly on the alcohol.

Steve’s eyes don’t leave Charles’ fingers as he stretches them outwards towards the bottle neck. They spin it quickly and delicately, and Steve’s throat is dry and his hands are wet and his dick is saying  _ please, please, please!  _

The tip of the bottle lands between Stanley and Annie. The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and she raises her eyebrow. 

“So,” she says, “Would you rather me kiss Charlie, or you see other girls’ breasts?”

“Uh oh,” Steve hears Evie whisper. “He’s in for it.”

“Neither!” Stanley says quickly. “Neither, baby, you know that.”

“Just spin again, Charlie,” Bucky tells him. “They’ll hold up the game for about a week.”

“I agree,” Evie says, her face displeased with the couple. “Go again, Charlie, it don’t matter.”

“Alright,” he says, and the group seems to agree. Steve reckons that this isn’t exactly a rare occurrence. The man leans forwards to spin again, and Steve can actually feel the room collectively stop breathing when the bottle lands on Carl. 

He feels like he might be sick. He can hardly control his breathing and he thinks that each breath might actually be audible to Bucky and Evie, so instead he tries to stop all together for short periods of time. His head is spinning and he can’t take his eyes off of Charles as he’s moving forwards. He doesn’t think his head could be turned if the house was set on fire, because they have a rushed conversation that Steve can’t hear because of the ringing in his ears, and then they’re kissing. 

Carl is the first to move his lips against the other’s. Steve hadn’t really noticed before, but he was rather attractive; short blond hair and a strong jawline, and veins running down his muscly arms that Steve finds himself suddenly wanting to lick. 

Their kiss is awkward, like neither of them want to be doing it, and they probably don’t. But they do it anyway, and they’re doing their damn best to make it look the least bit convincing. Their eyes are both fluttered closed and the kiss is speeding up a bit now, their lips parting and rejoining like a dance every so often. Whilst there is no chemistry between the both of them, there is definitely hints of tongue, brushing out every now and again, perhaps on instinct until they remember themselves again. Their hands remain on the ground, holding up their weight, far away from each other’s bodies. 

When they pull away from each other, they wipe their mouths with the back of their hands and stare at the girls as if challenging them to tell them that that wasn’t good enough. Charles is red in the face, and rolls his eyes at the jaunts of some of the other men as he sits back down next to Bucky.

Bucky. 

If Steve has to watch him do that, he can’t be certain that he won’t cum in his underwear right there. His cock is already throbbing and aching for touch, and he’s never wanted to be alone more in his entire life. This night will leave him with memories that he will have to savour for the rest of his life, and he has no doubts that he’ll end up masturbating to these memories at least a hundred times — perhaps every time that he touches himself from now onwards. You add Bucky to that dastardly mix, and you have a recipe for disaster.

“Not sure that I’ll live up to that,” Bucky says, taunting fate, as he leans forward and gives the bottle another spin. It lands on Faith, who slaps her hands to her thighs and gets up with excitement. Steve watches them kiss, and with a grim satisfaction, notes that Bucky doesn’t make her knees buckle like he did. He doesn’t say anything when he sits back down next to him, and instead just raises his eyebrows towards him. Bucky startles for a moment, but chuckles, and Steve’s not sure if they’re on the same page. 

When Steve spins the bottle and it lands on Annie, Stanley storms out of the room and she goes running right after him. There’s a collective sigh around the room, and Bucky slaps a hand to Steve’s shoulder and says, “Better spin again.”

Steve nods, and spins once more. It, by some luck, lands on Helen. He thinks, as he kisses her and pulls gently on her hair, that he’s lucky as hell to be kissing a woman. It makes his erection wilt ever so slightly, and he knows that if he did this with a man then he would end up giving himself away for sure. He strokes his thumb over her jaw and gives a soft bite to her lower lip, and feels her go ever so limp for a moment, before he pulls away and goes to sit back down. She’s clearing her throat and seems like she’s trying to find her bearings again, and when he looks up, Bucky is staring at him once again.

“Incredible,” he says, scanning Steve’s face, barely a whisper. He licks his lips absentmindedly and Steve forces himself not to look.

“What?” he says back instead.

“How you do that,” he tells him, looking perplexed and intrigued. “How you have that effect.”

“Alright!” Evie says, drawing them from the conversation. “Last round, and then I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Uh,” Carl interrupts, “you mean, after…”

She rolls her eyes and utters, “Fine,” to them, but smiles anyway, and spins the bottle. 

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of the game. Boys kiss girls and girls kiss girls and that’s all well and good but to Steve’s currently inebriated and incredibly aroused mind, it’s  _ boring.  _ He could sooner get harder by just staring at a man’s face than watching two women together, and he knows it’s beyond wrong, but he can’t bring himself to care at this moment in time. He’s tired and he’s drunk and he’s horny to high heaven, and he sort of wants this game over and done with just so that he can run all the way home and touch himself. 

He’s halfway through remembering Carl and Charles’ kiss again when Evie nudges his arm and draws him out of his daydream. She nods towards the bottle. It’s pointed right at him. 

“Oh,” he says, and looks around the circle, waiting for whoever it was who spun to come crawling forwards. It doesn’t happen. Steve feels a nudge from his right side now, and Bucky’s giving him a sheepish smile, not quite meeting his eyes. Steve stares at him for several moments, before his mouth drops open and he utters, “ _ Oh.” _

“We don’t have t’,” Bucky tells him quickly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Whatever I’m comfortable with,” Steve echoes, gazing between his friend’s eyes and trying not to fall into a panic attack. “Uh, I don’t think I wanna, you know… I can’t — I can’t make out. I can’t do that.”

And he can’t. If he does, he’ll break, and it’s too dangerous to even risk. Everyone would know immediately that he wants it; that he wants  _ more _ — that he wants everything that Bucky could ever give him; his lips; his chest, his arms, his cock,  _ fuck,  _ his ass—

“Okay.” Bucky nods, and Steve’s taken aback for a moment before remembering that his best friend can’t read minds.  _ Gods, he hopes he can’t read minds.  _ And then he’s leaning forwards, and Steve is trying not to stay frozen, so he tilts his head slightly to the right and doesn’t let his eyes flutter shut until the last possible moment. The sight of Bucky’s face and his lips coming ever closer and closer to him is something that again, he’ll never be able to forget, not even if he does and goes to the fiery pits of Hell — he will never forget that.

But Steve would gladly forget everything and more if it meant that he could stay like this forever. Bucky’s lips are firm against his own and the way they make him feel like the English language does not have enough angelic descriptive words. He lets slip a small gasp and presses in closer, the gesture too small for any onlookers to notice, but he senses a shift in Bucky’s demeanour and feels a hand on his outer thigh. Nobody else can see it, saved by the small, protective gap between Steve’s leg and the couch. 

If Steve was erect before… He presses his slick hands together and attempts to ignore the swirling heat in his abdomen and every one of his instincts telling him to bite Bucky’s lips and plunge his tongue into his mouth. He ignores the urge he gets to push Bucky backwards and climb on top of him, indecent intentions ever so clear to the both of them. He tries, he  _ tries,  _ but he can’t ignore the subtle way in which Bucky’s thumb is sliding comfortingly over the hidden part of his thigh on which his hand resides, and he wishes that he could grab it and place it onto his face, his neck, his hair, his crotch,  _ anything  _ to  _ feel  _ him.

But he’s scared. He’s so scared. The presence of the others in the room presses upon his chest like a boulder, and he pulls away, knowing that the two of them had only been connected for about five seconds but left feeling like it was actually five hours.

He pushes himself back to face forwards and anxiously smiles at his friend, who bites his lip and withdraws his hand quickly. 

“Now,” Bucky says, “I know that Stevie and I here didn’t really  _ make out,  _ but I think we deserve some sugar as well, huh, doll?” And he smirks towards Evie, who rolls her eyes once again and moves to sit upon the couch. 

“Fine,” she hums. “Who can resist little Stevie?”

“Who can resist Stevie?” Bucky repeats, low in Steve’s ear as he sits up to turn to face her. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine, and he knows that it’s not the sight of Evie unbuttoning her blouse that makes him all hot and bothered again. 

Faith stands and walks over to sit next to her and begins to do the same, and Steve can feel the tense and ready atmosphere from the men around him. The air  _ feels _ like testosterone. The women are both incredibly beautiful, and more than well blessed in the bosom area. Steve may not be all that attracted to women, but he can appreciate a nice view, and the women certainly do present something rather impressive. Their breasts are pert and both sets of nipples are hard, and Steve assumes it’s not because of the temperature. One of the men behind him stand up and walk closer, and Faith stands up to give him a closer look. With one hand straight to her waist, she drags him out of the door to God knows where, and Evie laughs as she buttons her blouse back up. 

Bucky nudges him once more after tearing his eyes away from the woman on the couch and says to him, “Happy birthday, Stevie.” Steve’s not sure what he’s talking about for a moment, assumes it’s the sight of the breasts, but gulps when he sees Bucky’s eyes flicker down again, to Steve’s lips, he’s sure. He’s sure. 

He can’t wait to get home. 

*

The walk home is tense. Steve and Bucky don’t talk, only stick close by one another when passing by dark alleyways and men who look up to no good. He’s cold enough that his his crotch has calmed down significantly but he can’t scratch it; the feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him he needs to get off.  _ Now.  _ Needs to shed his body of these clothes and wrap his hands around his dick until he can’t any more. 

He bites his lip and forces himself to ignore the memories seeping through to the forefront of his mind until they breach the threshold of their shitty apartment, and he’s more than ready to slam down the keys and hightail to his bedroom. 

He doesn’t get the chance. 

“Stevie,” Bucky says, interrupting the flow of Steve’s intrusive thoughts and stepping in front of his direct line to his bedroom. “How’d you do it?”

“How’d I do what?” Steve asks, craning his neck to look up at him.

“How’d you get those girls in that state?” Bucky takes one step forward. He wobbles a little, and it reminds Steve of the alcohol they’ve both consumed tonight. His head is rushing.

He shrugs, turning to the sink to run himself

a glass of water. “Maybe I’m just a good kisser.”

“That’s — That’s what I’m curious about,” Bucky chokes out, and Steve pauses, almost drops the glass. He gulps.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Maybe,” he says, and his voice has gotten quieter now. “Maybe I wanna know what got ‘em in that state.”

Steve almost gets whiplash from how fast he turns his head. He’s dreaming. He has to be.

And Bucky says, “Maybe I wanna feel it too,” and he actually does drop the glass; lets it shatter onto the floor and splash water everywhere and he’s not too sure he cares. He’ll deal with it in the morning, like he’ll deal with everything else in the morning, because right now doesn’t seem like the right time to care about  _ anything _ . 

“Well, come feel,” Steve invites hoarsely, and Bucky is on him quicker than light. He crowds him, pinning him against the counter with his arms either side of his body and his hips flush up against the other’s. Steve can feel Bucky’s erection before anything else and above all it’s exhilarating. Bucky was like this for  _ Steve,  _ all crazy and not thinking and  _ stop thinking, stop thinking! _

Their lips meet for the second time that night and it’s a whole lot messier than the last time. Steve’s hands link around the back of Bucky’s neck and Bucky’s hands are everywhere, one on the back of his thigh and the other sliding up his shirt, pushing it further and further, just  _ feeling.  _ Steve gasps into this kiss like he did the other, and this time there’s far too much and too little going on at the same time. They’re breathing hot into each other’s mouths, lips parting and rejoining and Steve can taste the beer in the other man’s saliva as it passes through.

The hand on Steve’s thigh yanks him forwards and the friction of his dick pressing against the bulge in his friend’s trousers is almost all too much. It’s no secret that Bucky is far more experienced than Steve, and if he’s not careful then he really  _ will  _ finish himself off in his pants, but Steve almost thinks that he doesn’t mind, because Steve moans into his mouth and he slips in his tongue whilst he can and does it again. 

Steve’s losing his marbles. He has to be. He hasn’t any clue where all of his confidence has come from but he pulls away from the kiss, not missing the heated look on Bucky’s face when he does so, to push himself to sit up on the counter. The two of them are at a levelled height now, and Steve spreads his legs apart so that Bucky can stand in between them. Steve feels a rush of  _ want  _ as Bucky’s hands find their way to his thighs once again, and draw him  _ in, in, in,  _ over and over, as if he were fucking him through clothes, meeting the thrust of his hips each time. Steve’s mouth drops and he releases a giddy whimper for each time he feels the contact on his groin, before taking his own wants into action too. He threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair and brings him in again, kissing him and licking him in, meeting his tongue and allowing each other to rule. 

It was like breathing him in like he was oxygen. Nothing existed apart from the two of them, the sweetness of his lips and his tongue distracting him from any thoughts of  _ wrong, immoral, illegal,  _ and more, and he wonders if Bucky’s saliva itself is an aphrodisiac. The more he kissed, the less inclined he felt to ever cease the action, and each time Bucky pulls away for air, he pulls him back, like he could never get enough. 

“Baby,” Steve hears, feels the tickle of his breath against his wet lips. “Let me breathe.”

“Sorry,” he whispers back, leaning his head against the overhead cupboard and watching Bucky grunt with each thrust. “If you — If you keep doin’ that, this won't last as long as I want it to.”

“I don’t mind,” Bucky tells him, a sweet smile upon his swollen lips. “I don’t mind at all.” And his lips are back against Steve’s, just a brief brush of them, and he’s gazing into his eyes with such intensity that he struggles to find the words to describe it. “‘Wanna make you cum in your pants.”

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Steve groans, arching his hips upwards for more friction. He nods frantically, whimpering as he drags Bucky in to kiss him some more, moaning, “Yes, yes, yes,  _ yes, _ ” every time they part for even a second. One of Bucky’s hands slides down to his inner thigh and stays there whilst the other continues to pull Steve into his hips, and there’s several seconds before he slides the hand upwards to rub the bulge in his pants. 

“So hot for me,” he mumbles. “I saw you in Evie’s, y’know. Saw how fucking turned on you were by the guys. I was —  _ ah —  _ suffering a mix of arousal and jealousy.” 

“It’s yours,” Steve tells him, “All yours. Nobody else’s.”

Steve chokes on his breath when he feels Bucky squeeze his cock and wraps his legs around the other man’s hips, pulling them flush against one another, their cocks lined up once more, and Bucky starts to thrust again. 

He can actually  _ feel  _ the outline of Bucky’s dick against his own, and he swears that there are fireworks going off inside of his brain, as the tension begins to build and Steve is practically tearing at the seams of his underwear, caging in his erection, and he knows that he’s going to cum soon. He and Bucky moan at the same time and the other man moves down to press his wet mouth to the side of Steve’s neck. He drops his head back against the cupboard and groans at the feeling, his fingers still knitting through the chocolate-brown locks and his legs tightening as he feels the insatiable sort of build up from his testicles. His toes curl and he feels his leg almost spasm, and he releases a short gasp as he experiences the hottest orgasm that he’s ever been through in his life. It almost feels as if he’s on some kind of drug, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the enchanting jolts of pleasure that seep through him will be hard to live up to when he touches himself in the future. 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he pants, because Bucky’s still moving against him, still riding through until his own orgasm comes, and Steve feels more sensitive than ever. His underwear feels sticky and uncomfortable but he can’t bring himself to care still, because the sight he has in front of him at this moment is too good not to savour, so he bites his lip and tries not to pass out when Bucky detaches from his neck. He comes up looking like sex, his lips more puffy than beforehand and his hair messier than usual, and he kisses Steve again deeply. His fingers feel like they press hot bruises into Steve’s thighs even through his clothing and some strange part of him hopes that they do leave marks. As he kisses him, void of tongue this time, Steve feels Bucky’s breathing quicken and hears the sweet whimpers from the back of his throat, tumbling out into his mouth, and he drags him in for one last thrust before he’s panting and swearing and cumming and Steve just smiles, dragging his hot breath over his mouth. 

“Stevie,” Bucky chokes out, before releasing a deep sigh of content and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. After a moment or two of catching their breath, Steve slides a hand down his back, wet with sweat, and rubs it comfortingly. 

“Bed,” Steve proposes groggily.

“Bed,” Bucky repeats, and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist to carry him into his bedroom. 

*

When Steve wakes up, he momentarily forgets. He forgets where he is, what on earth happened the night before. He forgets that it’s his birthday, and he forgets that he is naked. 

And then he remembers.

There’s an arm draped over his chest and a hot warmth against his back. The sheets that he’s under don’t look like his own, and they definitely don’t smell like his own, either. They smell… 

He gulps. It was a dream. It had to have been a dream. Nothing like that would ever happen to Steve in one million fucking years, let alone with  _ Bucky.  _ But he rolls over and proves himself wrong, gazes up at the sleeping face of the impossible, and then down at his naked chest, as impressive as all of the other times Steve has seen it, but never like  _ this.  _ He presses his palm to Bucky’s peck, if not to prove to himself that he wasn’t dreaming then to just sate his own desire. 

Bucky moves his leg and Steve feels it, hard against his hip, and this may seem like something straight out of Steve’s dreams but that feels hard enough to be real. He gulps, aching to reach down and touch it. He doesn’t. Instead, he places his palm onto the other man’s arm and strokes it. Up, down, appreciating his muscular tone but also attempting to comfort him in his sleep. How could this Greek God of a man be interested in a man like Steve, he wondered, and then backtracked. How could he be interested in a man,  _ period? _

Steve had had no idea. He supposes that that’s probably a good thing, as it means that nobody else could tell either. He was safe. Steve’s heart leaps into his throat as the realisation of what they were doing sinks in; what would happen if the two of them were caught like this. They would be sent to prison, drugged up, beaten up, shamed and exiled from the church even if they were let out at any point in their lives. Their lives. Steve was going to Hell, he knew it, and the thought pounded at his brain and his chest like a boulder. 

He didn’t even realise that he was making any noise until Bucky was sitting up quickly and rubbing his back. He’d woken him with his breathing, he’d realised, and wondered when he’d started to cry as well. 

“Easy, easy,” Bucky was saying, “You need me to get your inhaler?” 

Steve choked down a gasp and nodded frantically, his fist twisting the sheets beneath him and wondering if anybody else could fuck up such a tender moment, or if it was just him. Bucky comes back from the main room with his inhaler and hands it to him, perching on the edge of the bed to give Steve the space they both know he needs in moments like this. 

The inhaler helps, but it’s mostly the constant presence of his – Bucky that brings him back down to earth. He stays with him even after he’s finished with his inhaler and presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, mumbling, “What’ve you got y’self worked up over this time, huh?”

“You,” Steve tells him quietly, daring to meet his eye. He watches him falter for a moment, and says, “You make me feel so dizzy, Buck.”

There are fingers over his own, and the familiar sound of breathed laughter, and he brings his face close to Steve’s, tells him, “You make me pretty dizzy too,” and he kisses him, and Steve feels like he can’t breathe all over again. 

But this time, it’s in a good way. 


End file.
